


Unpleasent Trip

by Towrittealovestory



Series: Carry On Countdown 2017 [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2017, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, SnowBaz, tyrannus basilton "baz" pitch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 11:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13030182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Towrittealovestory/pseuds/Towrittealovestory
Summary: Simon was supposed to be happy, holding someone’s hand, not spilling some hot violing’s coffee.





	Unpleasent Trip

**Author's Note:**

> This was for day 20 for Countdown but I kinda forgot to upload here...so I hope you enjoy anyway :D
> 
> Thanks for reading! :3

Simon stepped into the room, tired. Tired of the flight, tired of walking, tired of remembering, tired of being mad, just too tired. 

He let the bag next to the bed. It was a big bed, too big for only one person. 

Too tired to think, instead he walked to the big window across the room. It was late, 1 or 2 am probably, still there were lights on the city, bright and beautiful like one of those pictures you see on tumblr. And in the distance, small but still elegant and proud it stands the Eiffel Tower. It was almost Simon expected, it was so perfect. She would have loved it. 

Although Simon was disappointed he couldn’t see the stars from there, the sky was illuminated not from the moon the hang in space but the lights stuck on the ground. 

Finally, he laid on the bed, still too big. Silence. He closed his eyes, tried to sleep, he felt so tired. 

“Si…I…I…” Crying, she was crying. He almost was too. “…can’t…” He did cry. A lot. 

He sat down, abruptly. He opened his eyes, tried to shut her image off his mine but every time he blinked there she was again. And again, saying things he didn’t want to hear.

“I don’t…love you.” She whispered between sobs, now on her knees, grabbing his face. He almost couldn’t see her through his tears, but he could swear she was looking straight to his eyes. “Not like you want me to love you, Simon.”

Before he was conscious his things were spread across the bed.2

Words have never been his strong point, but lyrics were different. It was as if his brain processed them differently. Words were always so easy to mess up, instead, lyrics came so easy to him. Words always felt rough and bitter in his mouth, lyrics were sweet, soft every time. 

_____

Baz didn’t bother too much with the sight, although it was impressive, it wasn’t why he came here. Not exactly.

He was escaping, hiding. 

Baz didn’t really know what exactly from what. He didn’t want to give it too much thought, there was only so much he could handle. But he did know he was better alone in a hotel, than back at his house with so much that held him back. So much that was better left behind. It didn’t matter that he couldn't stay in Paris or ignore his father’s calls for all eternity but for now thinking was not important either.

Music was lighter in his head. It was a distraction, the soft hum of the violin quiet all the worries in his head. It made the now more important than what it was or what will be.

But now it was late, and he was witting notes; he almost could hear them playing in his head.

___

The morning was great. 

For a split of second Simon just breathe the fresh air of a new place, he had one of those moments where you just don’t remember where are you or why are you there. For a short moment, he felt peace in the emptiness of his mind. Until he tried to move his neck and realized he had slept on top his ukulele and papers in a very uncomfortable position, and he could tell he might have broken something in his back from the pain. 

Something Baz was starting to take for granted was the taste of coffee in the morning while he prepares his things in what he has called his station for the last week, outside the same cafeteria Baz would get his coffee every morning. It had gone to a point where Baz entered the place and his coffee was ready and waiting for him. Almost every day he had noticed the same people come in, later to stare at him on their way out. Therefore the cute blond caught Baz’s eyes. Also that Baz had put his coffee down while he had been prepared his notes and violin, and just when he turned around there was someone on the floor just next to his spilled coffee. It wasn’t too hard to fill the context.

“I-I'm sorry. I-I…” Oh god, he was a mess. 

His curls were just as untidy as the rest of him, falling on his face, and his cloth dirty from the ground and coffee. Even his blue eyes looked wild and lost. Baz could tell that guy had a rough start to the morning. 

Simon lifted his head to apologize, even buy a new coffee, and found a cold almost hateful look coming from the most graceful boy(or thing) he had ever seen. He stared at Simon, as disturbance -which to be fair, he probably was. Even from Simon’s perspective, the boy seemed so elegant and proud. Simon got up nervous, with a slight blush in his cheeks. 

Simon stood. The guy was taller than him, still looking down at Simon. “I’ll…I’ll get you a new one” Simon mumbled, stepping back; he was too close.

Baz held Simon’s stare for a couple a second. “Do not bother” he responded in English. Simon suddenly remembered the place they were in and language it was spoken.

“But…” Simon tried to protest.

“Don’t” Baz turn back to the lectern in his left. “I have no time for it. Now, would you mind leaving, and take the cup with you? You are blocking the way. ” The guy was cute, but Baz didn’t have time for cute distractions. 

Rude much; Simon thought in shock. 

A few passed before Baz realized Simon hadn’t move a millimeter. Baz glared Simon over his shoulder. Simon finally left without anything else to say. It left Simon with the unshakable feeling of being struck by lighting

Finally, Simon got in, with his clothing not as dirty as he thought they were.

His first day in Paris was going absolutely like it wasn’t supposed to. Although at this point nothing was going like it was supposed to. He was supposed to be holding Agatha's hand, while smiling like idiots because they just got engaged, not spilling hot boy’s coffee. 

As he cursed his situation something caught his ears. He was already paying his coffee when he heard it. Beautiful music, almost like soft, gentle whisper. Simon looked at the big window next to the entrance, it was the guy from before. Simon could only see a glance of his face. He could see the other’s boy black hair tied in a lazy ponytail, and his hands moving with ability over the violin. 

“Is beautiful isn’t it?” The cashier said with a shine in her eyes, admiration perhaps -Simon was lucky she talked English. “The boss is thinking on asking him to play here, everyone loves to hear him play.” Her smile is big. Simon looks around and sees what the girl is saying. No one was talking just listening. “But they think he and me…just two performers I mean…are not enough to fill the day…” her voice was quiet. Everything on her yelled confidence from her bright, red hair on braids, her big and intense black eyes to her dark purple lips and bold eyeliner; but her body language and voice contradicted the image.

“I can play” Simon blurted without thinking. 

The girl looked at him, and her face lit up. He smiled for the first time since he had come to Paris or since Agatha.

**Author's Note:**

> Also quick note, I'm not doing all the rest of days of the countdown just a few of them but I'm still making a series just in case someone wants to see it for some reason idk.


End file.
